I unfolded it with both hands.
The girls crossed the college stage one at a time.
Ava’s name was called first.
She was already crying before her name had completely faded through the speakers. I watched her wipe her face with the sleeve of her black gown and laugh at herself halfway across the stage.
Then Claire. My middle girl, always the wild card.
She noticed me in the audience and waved with both hands, just like she’d waved from the school bus window when she was eight. I enthusiastically waved back.
They called Ava first.
June came last.
She didn’t smile, but she crossed that stage in the same manner she’d moved through her entire life, as though she carried something heavier than everyone else could see. Something heavier than a diploma. I raised the camera. The shutter snapped. That should have been the end.
